


Breakfast

by Sarita1046



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Claustrophobia, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Public Humiliation, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 03:05:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12695934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarita1046/pseuds/Sarita1046
Summary: Set after the episode "The Die is Cast". Garak takes up Odo on his offer for breakfast.





	Breakfast

Long ago, Elim Garak had donned a perpetual mask. A guise of seamless serenity. An unshakeable expression that lacked any emotion, save for that suave yet subtle grin.

Though during that encounter with the station security chief, Odo, his mask had almost moved. Just a nudge, of course. A mere sliver of a crack.

Still, he’d been unable to turn and look Odo in the face just after the fact – that ironically mask-like face the shapeshifter used to blend in with the rest of them. Instead, Garak had only managed to sneak a glance at the constable's reflection.

Odo. Always such a stickler for the rules and admittedly, one of the precious few on board the former Terok Nor around whom Garak actually felt the need to tread carefully. 

Elim knew the shifter had a dark history with Cardassia. Raised under the occupation along with the Bajorans, he’d undoubtedly and understandably come to despise them with the same vigor as the religious species that had taken him in as a science experiment. 

Dr. Bashir, on the other hand, provided a more constant and dependable means of amusement apart from Garak’s tailor business. Intellectually stimulating as Julian was, he was also safe. Elim never had to fear that the young doctor would sneak up on him and take him into custody simply for being a Cardassian. Odo, on the other hand…

And yet now, following his most recent encounter, Garak felt both elation and inward disgust when recollecting the perverse pleasure he had taken in seeing Odo so utterly…vulnerable. 

Yes. As much as Odo’s suffering had eaten at the former Obsidian agent’s core, the sheer experience of observing Odo quite literally falling apart as he begged…well, that affected his core in a different manner altogether.

Odo’s physical strength surpassed the need to holster a weapon. He was capable of assuming virtually any shape he pleased, and yet – he had been completely at Elim’s mercy.

And now they were actually sitting down to breakfast.

A quiet affair, as it turned out. In a peaceful corner on the promenade. So far, keeping the conversation trained on work seemed the safest approach.

“I enjoy working with textiles,” Garak sipped his beverage smoothly, holding the constable’s stone gaze. “I find it soothing.”

Odo hummed softly, nodding. “I suppose we all need activities to relax us. Personally, I find the greatest pleasure in executing justice wherever necessary."

If it weren’t for Garak’s training in covert operations, he may have missed how the constable’s eyes flitted surreptitiously over his mouth as the Cardassian rapidly ran his tongue over his lower lip – a habit he sometimes suffered when drinking tea that was too hot.

Just as Garak made to subtly clear his throat, Odo beat him to the chase. “Garak – when does your shift begin?”

“I have about an hour,” Elim replied easily, “Why do you ask?”

“Let’s take a walk,” Odo deadpanned, rising from the table.

 

Once out in the sparsely populated halls, Garak contented himself to fall into easy step beside Odo while he listened to the low drone of the station’s engines. He found the white noise somehow…comforting.

Strangely, Odo’s voice breaking the silence didn’t perturb him.

“You haven’t told anyone about the encounter,” he stated in a low tone.

“…Of course not, Constable,” Garak returned a bit later than he would have preferred. “I tend to leave regrettable events to the past.”

“Let’s not pretend, Garak,” Odo retorted, still softly, “You found it to be the opposite of regrettable. You found it enticing.”

Garak stopped short and glanced around furtively. Luckily, no one was in sight at the moment.

“Why would you assume such a thing?” he asked, still keeping his cool. “You saw yourself how I insisted you lie, if just to…”

“I believe you wanted to regret it,” Odo cut in, taking a subtle step closer to Garak. “But certain physical manifestations suggested otherwise.”

“Manifestations?” Garak’s eyes bore into Odo’s, both refusing to look away. “Do you presume to understand the nuances of my race?”

“I have lived among you for thirty years,” Odo answered, now closing the distance between them, until he stood close enough to look down at Garak, provided their slight height difference. “I’ve…been in situations that required close interaction.”

Elim’s astute deduction skills put two and two together swiftly. “You’ve been with Cardassians…”  


No need to sugarcoat anything.

“The overseers rarely passed up the opportunity to take a detour with an exotic subject – Bajoran or otherwise. Noticing the darkening of the neck ridges provides insight into a Cardassian’s level of…intrigue.”

Despite his best attempts to remain neutral and cold, Odo’s face already gave off a slight sheen, suggesting that this topic held great embarrassment for him.

“I seemed to recall you as too busy trying to hold yourself together to notice my ridges,” Garak replied, and somehow didn’t feel any remorse at either the biting comment or his icy tone.

“You enjoyed watching me fall apart…” Odo now pressed close enough that their chests touched, “Perhaps it satisfied your need for control. You admitted yourself that you wouldn’t stand a chance at taking me on without that device.”

Backed into the wall and effectively trapped between Odo and the cold metal surface behind him, Garak could feel his claustrophobia beginning to well. 

“Isn’t that quaint,” Odo practically mouthed, as Garak felt something warm, soft and very malleable trail over his lower neck, igniting dangerous sensations nearly instantly, “At the very core of it all, you just want to be able to fall apart too. Lose that mask that everyone expects from a respectable former Cardassian agent – and simply let go.”

Cocking his head slightly to the left, Odo’s sharp blue gaze never left Elim’s, as the viscous living liquid moved in excruciatingly slow circles that took their sweet time to increase in pace - before languidly moving down over his abdomen to below his waist.

Garak's mind reeled at the fear evoked by being confined to the wall, while his body already screamed for release. Biting his lower lip, he resisted the urge to buck his hips forward against - whatever it was that currently passed for Odo's hand.

Somehow, the concern of someone seeing them resided idly at the back of his consciousness, dwarfed by the other emotions and sensations.

“The scientist who discovered me,” Odo went on, never pausing in his ministrations, “He had a motto. Spare the rod, spoil the child. You seem like a man who had such an upbringing – if your appeasing actions to the commander on our little journey were any indication. You suffered at the hand of your father, as well? Is that why you enjoy your meals with Dr. Bashir? Do you seek to provide the role of a healthy mentor – the giving mentor you never had?”

No, Odo couldn't possibly have determined the identity of Garak's father...

Elim had fallen beyond the ability to speak now, the air stinging his eyes as he refused to blink and held back a climax all at once.

“I’ve shifted the back of my form to blend in with the wall frame of the corridor,” Odo soothed, his tantalizing touch finally approaching a rhythm and speed that promised sweet gratification. “Fall apart for me – no one will ever know.”

The final lucid thought that occurred to Elim presented the obvious fact this whole encounter served as Odo’s revenge – before all conscious thought gave way to agonizing bliss, as the Cardassian’s essence joined the natural golden gelatinous form of Odo’s upper limb, which reverted to a solid hand moments later.

A hand that was surprisingly dry. 

At Garak’s confused downward glance, Odo whispered, “I respect your value of clothing. Your own remains unmarred. Thank you for breakfast, Garak.” 

Garak shut his eyes, refusing to risk letting Odo see any evidence of his weakness that undoubtedly shone there. Once he had gained enough composure to step away from the wall, Elim finally glanced around. Two Starfleet engineers walked by, chatting brightly. 

Mouth still slightly agape and eyes glazed, Elim Garak's mask had cracked.

The security chief was nowhere in sight.


End file.
